


On Nights Like These

by ridoma (Diminuendo)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke
Genre: F/M, M/M, Who am I, enough w the crying, fcuk me, i am sakoora pizza 666 hanameeya, i checked it three times, moris pov is fucked up so im not going to consider it too much, shitty oneshot, this is rushed, too mcuh crying in the hcs themselves tbh so whatever, why do i make myself cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diminuendo/pseuds/ridoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are days when the nights are stuffy, the stars are cluttered and music—from his neighbours—are loud. Those are the days he remembers Moriyama the most. </p><p>[or years after the prostitute au. you should probably read the prostitue au to understand this better.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Nights Like These

There are days when the nights are stuffy, the stars are cluttered and music—from his neighbours—are loud. Those are the days he remembers Moriyama the most. Those days remind him of the last time he saw the man, sipping his beer looking calm, finally looking in his way and suddenly!—his face is contorted in pain.

(Izuki never got to run up to him and hug him, he was too busy trying to ward off his stalker and trying to get Kiyoshi and Junpei to calm down. Most of the time, he wished he ran off to the man instead of watching his heavy figure retreat in the house.)

When he begins to experience The Night, he thinks and feels and pretends.  Sometimes Izuki thinks of what could’ve been there, what isn’t there and he cringes. Cringes because he fucked up, cringes because he doesn’t know the reason of the man’s disappearance, cringes because _oh_ Moriyama Natsuka is beautiful and fragile like glass. Sometimes he feels pain, melancholy or a twisted fleeting sort of happiness that he can never identify. Sometimes he pretends to be Moriyama Natsuka, sometimes he never gets out of bed, sometimes he is a beautiful man working in a coffee shop who sees Moriyama (a hard working engineer student) and in two weeks’ time, writes his number on the coffee sleeve and hands it to Moriyama with his face covered in pink. Izuki thinks, feels and pretends too much.

(Kiritō Shun isn’t a bad name. It’s accentuated, unique in its own right and held its own reputation. Kiritō Shun is honest, hardworking, simple and assertive. Moriyama Shun is fighting a battle with clenched teeth, Moriyama Shun is surviving in love’s ugliest forms and Moriyama Shun is also in a very conflicted and daring adventure. Kiritō Shun is pure, Moriyama Shun is always in trouble and Izuki Shun is stuck in time. Yet Moriyama Shun held wonderful implications and like a moth to a flame, he’s attracted to the name. )

The Night also has many physical symptoms. Izuki’s hands feel foreign, like he’s touching someone else’s hands. He can feel those hands, move them, but can’t feel them quite enough to be assured by their warmth, he can only feel the texture of them. To assure the hands are his, he moves to his cuticles and rips off peeling skin, to bring liveliness to his hands; the pain will make it less surreal. The spit in his mouth feels sticky, like natō and it balls up in the back of his throat, not all the way at the back, though. Just enough so he can feel some of it and has to walk up to his bathroom sink and spit in it, to find nothing there. What bother him the most is how a few parts of his body start to tingle.  Small little points: his wrists, collarbones, back of the knees, below the ear, temples, hip bones and the area just a few centimetres above his heel (sometimes between his toes). He has no explanation for the tingling, except the fact that Moriyama loved touching these obscure parts of Izuki and rubbing them (Izuki’slipsarefineIzuki’slipsarefine I z u k i’s l i p s a r e f i n e). With some parts of his body alive and other parts dead and others being disgusting, he feels inhuman. _(Aren’t we limited to one ~~emotion~~ sensation at a time?)_

He’s usually in the living room when the nights are mocking him. He’s curled up in a ball, staring out the sliding doors of his apartment and burying himself in the couch to disappear. His arms are around his knees and they are most probably scratching at each other. His head is downcast and his eyes are filled with regret and despair and his hearing has gone to crap because his brain has created a new world. The couch soon starts feeling like his hand, disconnected and almost there but not really, so he moves to sit right in front of the sliding doors. He stares straight out and the street lights burn his eyes (but then again, so did Mori’s smile) and minutes later he looks down at the hardwood, enticed by the faint patterns. His third position is him sitting on a chair which belonged to his dining table, his legs down and loose and hands in his lap. He’s looking down at his toes and slowly brings his legs up and down to stare at the aesthetically pleasing look of his high arched feet and his ankles (which would look lovely being caressed by Mori’s hand).

And this is how Izuki would spent nights that remind him of Moriyama, with these thoughts and feelings and actions. He stopped crying a long time ago, yet his mind didn’t stop grieving at all. The memories were as vivid as raw as possible and everything froze. He became a shell on nights like these, limited to certain actions and emotions and he couldn’t break the shell either. He put himself into a maze with no exit.

 (He needed an exit.)

If he stayed too long, thought too much or felt too wrong, he’d suffocate himself. He needs someone else to pull him out, someone who wouldn’t overcomplicate things and bring him back to reality with sweet and kind words. ~~(He needs to stop confusing his dependence on people for love.)~~

Yet he knew when The Night would finish—he didn’t know how long it would last—albeit he knew when the moment would never resurface. The cue was a word from that someone and suddenly he’d snap out, smile, and walk up to that person and lead them into their shared room.

Kiritō Yoshimara and Moriyama Natsuka may get along very well if they were to meet, one day. Hopefully, they’d cheat on their lover and run away, to never be seen again.

**Author's Note:**

> "Kiritō Yoshimara and Moriyama Yoshitaka may get along very well if they were to meet, one day. After all, they both managed to leave Izuki." is supposed to be the ending but too much angst so idk i didnt do that.  
> this is shitty. i am shit t y. we are shitty.  
> nah but tbh this probably sounds rushed or just escalates really quickly.  
> o h and if you though this was supposed to bring closure. nope not at all. there is no closure between them only pain.  
> by e


End file.
